A Day in the Life of Sauron
by Newmoon
Summary: COMPLETE! After two years in limbo, you can finally find out what happens! An in-depth look at a day in the life of out favorite flaming eyeball, and what it really takes to be the biggest baddie in Middle-earth. COMPLETE!
1. In which Sauron gets a call from Mummy

A/N This is a little fic where we shall follow Sauron through his day and really get an in-depth view of what our favorite Dark Lord goes through being the biggest baddie in Middle-earth! Enjoy! 

Disclaimer: All characters except for Mrs. Sauron's Mum and the salespersons belong to the Great Lord Tolkien.

**A Day in the Life of Sauron**

* * *

Imagine a dark, desolate land, a barren wasteland riddled with ash and fire. The very earth itself seems to loath and despise what it has become in this dreaded corner of the land.

Imagine, if you will, an ominous, dark tower, rising from the earth. The sight of this tower, the sound of its very name, is enough to make the pants of the mightiest warrior feel rather damp. But the most fearsome of all is He Who Dwells in this tower. The Dark Lord Sauron, forger of the One Ring, master of the Nine Nazgul, the one who shall...

I said, THE DARK LORD SAURON, FORGER OF-

Oh, I see. Ahem. The Dark Lord Sauron, who is asleep in bed right now, snoring loud enough to pull Isildur from his grave.

BZZZT!!!

BZZZT!!!

BZZ- CRASH!

Sauron smashed the alarm clock with his fist, and growled. "There is no curse in Elvish, Entish, or the tongues of Men to describe Monday mornings!" he muttered, rolling out of bed.

"Hey Saurkraut!" Nazgul #3 said, passing by Sauron's bedroom door. "Morgoth called. He wants his Palm Palantir back."

"Tell him no, and give him full permission to use the "kill the messanger" method," grumbled Sauron.

"... I'll have Nazgul #7 give him the message," Nazgul #3 said.

"Whatever! Just keep that off-key idiot off my back!" Sauron said. He pulled on his bathrobe and stomped off to the bathroom, muttering as he went, "I am not a morning person!"

The bathroom was, unfortunately, currently inhabited by Nazgul #2, who was in the shower singing merrily about purple oliphaunts at the top of his lungs. Sauron considered bashing the door down, sending Nazgul #2 in to the next age, and making Nazgul #4 pay the repair bill for the door, but then Sauron remembered the last time he had had a brilliant plan like that, he ended up having to pay for an entire dungeon to be replaced.

So the Dark Lord stomped off the the kitchen hoping fervently that Nazgul #8 hadn't used up all the coffee like he had last Thursday morning. Fortunately for Nazgul #8, he hadn't. Of course, would _you_ want a coffee pot stuffed down your undead throat twice in one week?

Sauron pulled a chipped mug with the words "I LOVE MY MOMMY" written on the side out of the cupboard and poured his coffee. This coffee was so strong that it could burn the roof off of a mere mortal's mouth, and was only safe for the Nazgul and the Dark Lord to drink. It was like fire running through your veins, lava searing your arteries and pillaging your heart. It felt like acid eating away at your innards, destroying your vital organs. Sauron loved it.

Just as he sat down at the kitchen table to drink his coffee in peace, the Palantir rang. "If it's a Salesman, tell him to go stick his ass in Mount Doom," Sauron said to Nazgul #1, who was also in the kitchen. He preferred to be called The Witch King, but for the sake of continuity, we'll stick with numbers.

"Right," said Nazgul #1, and went to answer the Palantir. A moment later he stuck his head back in the kitchen door and said, "It's your mom."

"Shit," muttered Sauron and reluctantly went to the Palantir.

"Is that my little Saurikins?" came a chipper, elderly voice from the Palantir when Sauron entered the room where it was kept.

"Good morning, Mother," sighed Sauron.

"And how's my best boy?" Mrs. Sauron's Mum asked.

"I'm well, Mother," replied Sauron dutifully.

"Did you remember your eye-doctor appointment last Thursday?" asked Mrs. Sauron's Mum.

"No, Mother, I didn't," Sauron answered. He had actually made sure that he was busy buying more coffee at the time of his appointment. He liked his eye the way it was, thankyouverymuch.

"You know, you wouldn't forget these things if you hadn't lost that Ring of yours," Mrs. Sauron's Mumchided sternly.

"I didn't lose it, Isildur stole it from me," Sauron said testily. "It was his fault!"

"Now, don't you go blaming that nice boy!" scolded Mrs. Sauron's Mum. "What ever happened to him, anyway?"

"He was slain by orcs three thousand years ago," said Sauron flatly.

"Oh, that's right! Was it really three thousand years ago? Well time certainly does fly!"exclaimed Mrs. Sauron's Mum.

"Whatever," said Sauron.

"Are your feet warm, dear?"

"What?"

"I asked you if your feet are warm!" Mrs. Sauron's Mum repeated. "In _Valar Weekly_ it said that if your feet aren't warm, you could get a cold. I don't want my little Saurikins getting a cold!"

"I won't get a cold, Mother," Sauron said, exasperated.

"Why don't you have that friend of yours... what's his name? The one who's always knitting..." Mrs. Sauron's Mum trailed off.

"Nazgul #5?" suggested Sauron.

"Yes, that's the one!" Mrs. Sauron's Mum cried. "You should have him make you some socks. A nice, wooly pair of socks."

"He's in the middle of knitting a neck warmer for his Winged Steed and he doesn't like working on more than one project at once," answered Sauron.

"Oh, isn't that sweet!" Mrs. Sauron's Mum cooed. "Boys are so cute with their little pets. Well when he's done tell him that Mrs. Sauron's Mum asked him to knit a pair of socks for her little Saurikins."

"Of course, Mother, I'll say just that!" said Sauron sarcastically.

"There's a good boy." Mrs. Sauron's Mum paused, and then went on. "I got a call from Morgoth's Mummy the other day. She says that you borrowed Morgoth's Palm Palantir and won't give it back!"

"But I like it!" Sauron complained.

"Sauron! That's no way to act toward your betters!"

"Morgoth isn't my better; he's just a tone-deaf git who can't see when his reign of terror is over!" Sauron grumbled.

"Sauron!" cried Mrs. Sauron's Mum, shocked. "I thought I'd raised you better! Shame on you for talking like that!"

From somewhere else in Barad-dur, Sauron heard one of the Nazgul calling his name. "Mother," he said hastily, "I'm sorry, but I really must be going."

"Alright dear," Mrs. Sauron's Mum said. "Be a good boy and keep your feet warm. And remember your Mummy loves you. Buh bye!"

"Good bye, Mother," said Sauron, praising theValar that he was not speaking to his mother in person, and so didn't have to kiss her good bye. Then he went off to see why his name was being called.

"SAURON!!!" shouted Nazgul #9 as Sauron neared the bathroom.

"What?!" asked Sauron. "What in the Voidis going on??"

"Nazgul #2 used up all the hot water in his shower!" Nazgul #9 complained. "If I have to take one more cold shower this week then I will be forced to whine at a very high-pitched frequency!"

"If you keep complaining you'll find out what it feels like to lose a staring contest with a giant flaming eyeball." growled Sauron. "I am a sore winner.

"'K," Nazgul #9 said meekly. "S... Sorry to bother you, Boss Man!"

Just then, Nazgul #5 walked by, his knitting basket over his arm. "Hey, dude," Sauron said, stopping him. "If my mom asks, you knitted me a pair of socks, ok?"

"Sure!" Nazgul #5 gave Sauron a thumbs up, and walked away laughing.

* * *


	2. In which Morgoth pays a visit

Disclaimer: Still don't own 'em.

In this chapter, I've kind of modeled Morgoth after Death in the Discworld series by Terry Pratchett, only less grandfatherly.

* * *

The Palantir call from his mother left Sauron in a very bad mood. She always seemed to point out his worst qualities, although when you're a Dark Lord, that's a pretty easy thing to do. Anyway, Sauron sat at the kitchen table, moodilyquaffing his coffee, which had gone cold while was talking to Mrs. Sauron's Mum. Nazgul #3 looked up from doing the dishes and tsk'd.

"Has anyone bothered to feed Ulmo lately?" he asked testily, gesturing towards to goldfish bowl. Monosyllabic replies were given, all in the negative. Nazgul #3 sighed and dried off his hands, and went to get the fish food. Ulmo the goldfish looked glum, sulking behind his new Under Water Sea Globe.

Nazgul #6 suddenly burst into the kitchen.

"I'm going to make some cookies today!" he cried. "Who wants to join me?" He beamed at the mass of hostile faces; Sauron with his cold coffee, Nazgul #9 with his cold shower, Nazgul #7 with the "exciting" prospect of the delivery of a message to Morgoth ahead of him, Nazgul #5 who just realised he had dropped a stich nine rows back and had to rip out all nine rows to fix it...

"Git," muttered Nazgul #1, brooding over his coffee.

"Fine then!" said Nazgul #6. "I'll make them all by myself!... And I won't give you any of them!" He stomped off to the pantry, and was immediately followed by Nazgul #4, 8, 9, 2, and 7.

"Where are you guys going?" Sauron growled.

"We like cookies..." Nazgul #8, who was bringing up the rear,muttered, looking down at his feet.

As the sound of six Nazgul making chocolate chip cookies reached his ears, Sauron muttered, "I was voted most likely to be an Evil Overlord in highschool for _this_?" Nazgul #5 shrugged, his knitting needles clicking away.

Later, after the cookies were done, Sauron sat at the kitchen table chatting with Nazgul #1 and Nazgul #4.

"Y'know," said Nazgul #1, "after all these hundreds of years of living and working together, I think we're finally becoming a team. I think we're all finally working together to be the bad guys we really are!"

"Sauron!" shouted Nazgul #6, running into the room. "Nazgul #5 won't share the TV remote and now he's starting to poke Nazgul #2 with his knitting needles!"

"Go on, Nazgul #1, I believe you were saying something funny?" Nazgul #4 said.

"You're the Witch King.," Sauron told Nazgul #1, "and they're your responsibility. You deal with it."

"It's _The_ Witch King, actually," said Nazgul #1 testily. Hegrudgingly got up from the table and left the room, muttering, "For _this_ I became undead??"

"You do a very good job of keeping is in line, you know," Nazgul #4 told him soothingly.

"Eh, whatever," Nazgul #1 said.

Sauron didn't even want to know what means Nazgul #1 would employ to make the other Nazgul calm down, but he knew it probably wouldn't be pretty. After five minutes, when still no sounds came from the living room, Sauron couldn't decide if this were a good thing or a bad thing. Finally, he decided to go check it out, and having nothing better to do, Nazgul #4 followed him.

They entered the living room and beheld a sight not seen every day. Eight Nazgul were sitting on the couch, or bean bag chairs, or sprawled on the floor, eyes glued to the television screen, a picture of rapt attention. Nazgul #5 had even stopped knitting to watch.

"Right, what's going on?" asked Sauron, for the second time that morning.

"Shhhh..." said Nazgul #7. "They're about to announce the winner..."

"Alright folks, your votes are in!" said the smiling announcer on the television screen. "And the winner of Middle-earth Idol is.... Peregrin Took!"

Nazgul #5, 6, 3, 8, and 9 clapped and cheered along with the crowd on the TV. Nazgul #1 sighed and looked at his feet, and #7 turned to #2 and said, "It should have been that Elf chick, you know?" Nazgul #2 nooded glumly.

Sauron threw his hands into the air in disgust, and took the fact that the door bell was ringing as an excuse to leave the room.

Hearrived atBarad-dur's front door, the still bell ringing persistently. "Alright, I'm here!" he said opening the door. He was faced by a woman with a huge smile.

"Hi!" she said in an annoyingly cheerful voice. "Would you like your home remodeled? If so, then we at-"

"Not interested," Sauron said, slamming the door shut. The door bell rang again, and Sauron opened the door, and this time saw a man.

"If you ever need financial help-"

"Not interested," Sauron repeated, slamming the door again. The door-bell rang a third time.

"I said, _not interested_, you slimylittle-" He stopped. "Oh... Hi, Morgoth..."

GO ON, SAURON, Morgoth said. WHAT WERE YOU ABOUT TO CALL ME?

"Nothing... ah... I thought you were a salesman," Sauron said.

MANY HAVE MADE THAT MISTAKE IN THE PAST, Morgoth assured Sauron.

"Really?"

THEY'RE ALL DEAD.

"Oh..." Sauron said. "So... what's up, dude?"

I WANT MY PALM PALANTIR BACK, said Morgoth. GIVE IT TO ME. NOW.

"Um... Why don't you come in..." Sauron said, wondering how Morgoth would fit through the door, seeing as he was at least 37 feet tall. But, by some ancient magick, the senior Dark Lord was able to duck through the door and follow Sauron the the kitchen.

Morgoth sat down at the table and reached for the plate of cookies. MM, CHOCOLATE CHIP, he said, biting into one. MY FAVORITE! There was a pause as he finished the cookie. OK, he said when it was done. MY PALM PALANTIR, SAURON. GIVE IT TO ME NOW!

"Yeah, just let me get it," Sauron muttered distractedly. When he was out of ear-shot of the kitchen, he muttered, "Mr. I'm-so-smart-I-came-before-you-so-I'm-better-Ha-Ha-Ha!"

I HEARD THAT, Morgoth's voice boomed. I _AM_ OMNISCIENT, YOU KNOW.

'Bugger,' thought Sauron. "You'd better not eat all the cookies!" he called, and made his way back to the living room.

When he got there, he found all nine Nazgul still glued to the tube. Nazgul #8 was drooling slightly. "Guys, bad news..." he began. No reaction. Sauron paused, and suddenly shouted, "PI IS EXACTLY THREE!!!"

Nazgul #9, a big one for math, gasped. "What?!" he cried. All the other Nazgul turned to look at Sauron in disbelief.

"Well, I'm sorry it had to come to that," Sauron said. "But now that I have your attention, I have some very bad news."

"What is it?" asked Nazgul #2.

Sauron looked around, leaned towards the Nazgul, and said in a low voice, "Uh.. Orgoth-may is-ay ere-hay!"

There was a pause. "Come again?" asked Nazgul #5.

"Morgoth is here!" Sauron hissed. "In the kitchen!"

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, "ILUVATAR SAVE US!!" cried Nazgul #6. "WE'RE ALL GONNA DIIIEEEE!!!!"

"Oh, shut up!" Nazgul #4 snapped, whacking Nazgul #6 with a TV guide.

"Guys, quite down," Sauron said. "Morgoth wants his Palm Palantir back. But the thing is-"

"Oh, just give it to him then!" Nazgul #7 exclaimed. "That should be easy!"

"Uh..." Sauron said, his voice even lower. "The thing is... I lost it, but Morgoth's omniscient, so don't-"

YES, I AM OMNISCIENT. Morgoth's great voice filled the air. AND IT GREATLY DISPLEASES ME THAT YOU HAVE LOST MY PALM PALANTIR. I SHALL WAIT HERE UNTIL YOU FIND IT, AND IF YOU DO NOT FIND IT SOON, THERE WILL BE **TROUBLE**.

"Oh, what can you do about it?" shouted Sauron, frustrated.

I CAN TELL MANWE ON YOU, Morgoth said.

"Ok, ok, I'll find the damn Palm Palantir!" Sauron yelled. "Just give me some time!"

I'LL BE WAITING, Morgoth said grimly.

"Help me!" Sauron said to the Nazgul pleadingly.

"Whatever you say, Boss Man!" Nazgul #3 said.

"Yeah," added Nazgul #2, nodding earnestly.

"Oh, Eru help me!" Sauron sobbed.

* * *


	3. In which it all comes crashing down

A/N So, what's it been, two years since I last updated this? I finally decided to finish this thing! 

Disclaimer: Ownership of everything having to do with lord of the Rings still eludes me.

* * *

"So!" one of the Nazgul asked cheerfully. "What's the plan?"

Sauron thought for a moment. Given the fact the Morgoth appeared to be displaying a hitherto-undetected omniscience and would hear him anyway, it didn't seem to matter what he said.

"Look," he addressed the nine Nazgul, "I've lost Morgoth's palm palantir, and I have no clue where it is. If we don't find it, he will make our lives a living hell."

"He'll make _your_ life a living hell," Nazgul #4 pointed out. "_Our_ lives already are, with you in charge. Besides, you're the one who lost it, not us." He looked around for support, and the other Nazgul nodded. Sauron groaned.

"Right," he said icily. "I stand corrected. By the by, I shall make your sorry lives even _worse_ if you do not help me find aforementioned missing palm palantir. Savvy?"

"Oh, I never said we wouldn't," Nazgul #4 said hurriedly. "I was just pointing out that our position is far less grievous... than... yours..." He trailed off at the sight of the look in Sauron's eye.

"So..." Nazgul #7 said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen. "Where do we start?"

Sauron took a deep breath. "Search parties," he said. "We'll split up. #1, #2, and #3, yousearch the dungeons and lower chambers. #6 and #7, you guys can tackle the sleeping quarters. You two spend so much time sleeping you should know them better than anyone else by now. #4, #5, and #8, take the upper levels, expecially the storerooms. #9 and I will cover the living quarters."

"Sounds good," Nazgul #5 said, putting his knitting away. "What exactly are we looking for?"

Sauron couldn't believe it. "Morgoth's palm palantir!" he exploded. "The one I lost! The one he will kill me over if I don't find!"

"I know, I know," Nazgul #5 said soothingly. "But what does it look like?"

"Like... one of the Palantiri, only smaller," Sauron said lamely, racking his brain. He couldn't remember when or where he'd last seen the palm palantir. It could be anywhere. "It's round, and swirly, and can fit in your palm."

"Swirly," Nazgul #1 said flatly. "Your eloquence astounds me."

"Hey, lay off, I'm under alot of stress, alright?" Sauron snapped.

"Sure, no problem," Nazgul #1 answered, snickering. Sauron growled.

"Everyone get out NOW!" ordered the Dark Lord. The Nazgul scattered to their assigned sections of the building. Sauron was left alone with Nazgul #9.

"I'll just start looking in here, then, shall I?" Nazgul #9 said warily. "Yes..." He wandered over to the couch and looked behind it. Nothing. He glanced back up at Sauron, who was still standing in the middle of the room with his hands over his eye.

"You okay, boss?" Nazgul #9 asked.

"I'm FINE!" snapped Sauron, his hands dropping to his sides. "I'm going to look in the game room!" He stormed out of the room.

* * *

Morgoth sat in the kitchen, waiting. He could hear the sounds of nine Nazgul and one usurping Dark Lord running around the tower, searching for his palm palantir. He glanced over at the fish bowl. Ulmo had momentarily emerged from behind his globe.

DRIVES YOU INSANE SOMETIMES, DOESN'T IT? Morgoth said to the fish. I ADMIRE YOU FOR PUTTING UP WITH IT FOR SO LONG. Ulmo gave him a long-suffering Wounded Hero look.

Morgoth peered closer at the Under Water Sea Globe in the fish bowl. There was something odd about it, though he couldn't quite place what.

He reached for another cookie. They were quite good.

Then he looked back at the Under Water Sea Globe.

* * *

Time dragged by slowly in the tower of Barad-dur, and without much success. Nothing turned up in the lower or upper levels, and the Nazgul were beginning to get worried. Especially since Sauron had not been seen since he disappeared into the game room several hours ago.

"Maybe he slit his wrists with a pool stick," suggested Nazgul #6. All nine Nazgul were gathered around the game room door.

"He's a giant flaming _eyeball_," snapped Nazgul #4. "Where are his wrists?"

The Nazgul stopped to consider this. It was true that Sauron was a giant disembodied eye, but he always seemed to be able to perform every action that one needed arms and legs to perform. It was quite a paradox. They would have to consider it in greater depth later on. Right now, however, the matter of what Sauron was currently doing was far more pressing.

"Hey," said Nazgul #9, rapping tentatively on the door, "Boss man? You in there?"

There was no sound for a moment, but gradually, a very strange noise reached the Nazguls' undead ears. It was a crooning, cooing sort of sound, accompanied by a high-pitched giggle.

"Sauron?" called Nazgul #1, knocking harder at the door. "Is that you?" There came no answer.

"Is the door unlocked?" asked Nazgul #4.

"I don't know," Nazgul #9 admitted. "I didn't try. I sort of assumed he'd locked it.

"Well, see if it's open, then!" pushed Nazgul #7.

Nazgul #9 took hold of the door handle and turned. With a click, the door swung open easily, and the nine Nazgul piled into the game room. They were met with an astonishing, albeit rather amusing, sight.

Sauron sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, pool balls scattered around him. (Nazgul #2 loved pool, and was always collecting far more balls than one ever needed to play the game.) Sauron rocked back and forth slightly, cradling something in his hands and tossing it up in the air. He burbled happily, grinning and giggling.

"I don't believe it," Nazgul #8 said. "He's finally cracked."

"Frankly, I can't believe it took so long," Nazgul #6 added.

Nazgul #1 approached Sauron and knelt by his side.

"Sauron?" Nazgul #1 said gently, as one might address a small child. "Are you alright? Here, show me what you found."

"I found it!" Sauron shrieked happily. "I thought I was toast but I found it! It was here all along!" he laughed happily and help up the thing in his hands.

It was a small glass ball, about the size of a pool ball, but much fancier. The Nazgul stared at it. Nazgul #1 rose slowly to his feet. "Um..." he said.

"I hate my life," Nazgul #2 said flatly. "I suppose I'm going to be the one to tell him?"

"Yes," chorused the other eight Nazgul. 'Better you than me,' they were all thinking.

Nazgul #2 crouched down in front of Sauron. "Um... Boss? I really hate to break it to you, but that's not Morgoth's palm palantir."

"What? Of course it is!" roared Sauron furiously. "See?" He brandished the ball in front of Nazgul #2's face. Nazgul #2 grabbed Sauron's wrist and gently pried the ball out of Sauron's fist with his other hand.

"No," he said patiently, "it isn't. It's my award for winning the Pan-Arda Pool Championships back in the Second Age. Don't you remember? See, it's got a little engraved plaque on the side of it." He pointed to the little metal rectangle screwed onto the side of the glass globe. Sauron's face fell.

"Oh," he said. "I thought I'd saved my ass."

"Don't worry," Nazgul #2 said soothingly. "I'm sure we'll find it soon."

"No," Sauron answered morosely. "We won't. It's gone. I might as well give myself up to Morgoth's wrath right now."

The Nazgul were shocked to see their master in such a state, and didn't know what to do. They were all mercifully spared having to break the silence, however, when Morgoth showed up.

SAURON, he said, startling all those near him. WHY WAS MY PALM PALANTIR IN YOUR FISH BOWL? He held up the dripping "Under Water Sea Globe." It sparked slightly.

"What?" asked Sauron, getting to his feet.

MY PALM PALANTIR, repeated Morgoth impatiently. IT WAS IN YOUR FISHBOWL.

"Oh!" said Nazgul #3, embarassed. "I... I thought that was an Under Water Sea Globe!"

ACTUALLY, Morgoth told him. IT'S MY PALM PALANTIR.

"...I can see that," muttered Nazgul #3.

I'LL BE GOING NOW, Morgoth said, heading for the door. He paused and added, YOU MIGHT WANT TO KNOW, SAURON, THAT THERE'S A LARGE ARMY AMASSING OUTSIDE YOUR GATES.

"_What?_" cried Sauron, snapping back to attention. "Who are they?"

REMEMBER ISILDUR?

"Yes, of course I remember Isildur!" snapped Sauron.

WELL, IT LOOKS LIKE ONE OF HIS DESCENDENTS REFORGED HIS SWORD AND HAS COME BACK FOR REVENGE, Morgoth told him. HAVE FUN! And he was gone.

"Shit," Sauron stated calmly. "Okay, you nine go out on your Fell Steeds and see if you can do anything about it."

"And you?" asked Nazgul #7.

"I'm getting another cup of coffee," Sauron told him. "Then I'll see what I can do. Now OUT!"

The Nazgul hurried out to their Fell Steeds and Sauron made his way to the kitchen. But when he arrived there, he was met with a horrible sight.

"That bastard!" he shouted, picking up the plate. "He ate all the cookies!"

So furious was he at this turn of events that he didn't notice the two small, seemingly insignificant hobbits, slowly making their way up the side of Mount Doom...

_**FIN**_


End file.
